


Good Vibrations

by skarlatha



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bottom Rick, Canon Universe, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, PWP, Virgin Daryl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 03:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4420076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/skarlatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl goes into Rick’s cell to discuss a minor issue at the prison. Rick seems awfully distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

> This one took me WAY longer than it should have to write! But I'm currently working on a long fic (one that could be easily 100k) so I wanted to get a couple of short ones out there so you guys didn't forget about me. So here you go!
> 
> As always, lots of credit goes to my tireless beta, Michelle_A_Emerlind, and my cheerleader, TWDObsessive, for their comments and encouragements! You guys rock!

It’s early when Daryl gets up to start his day. The light from the high windows in the cell block is the deep steel-gray of pre-dawn, and if he’d been going to talk to anybody else, he would have waited. But this is Rick. And Rick is a farmer now. And farmers get up early. So Daryl figures it’s a good time to talk to him, and the topic is pretty important so he decides to just go get it over with.

“Rick?” he whisper-hisses through the curtain over the man’s doorway. There’s a grunt from inside, and Daryl nods to himself as he ducks through the curtain and walks in.

Rick is halfway through scrambling into an upright sitting position when Daryl’s eyes adjust to the low lighting. The ex-deputy is shirtless, his chest heaving slightly with a thin sheen of sweat that gives him an otherworldly glow. The air between them thrums with electricity, but then when does it not? Daryl’s gotten used to ignoring the feelings between them. They’re probably one-sided anyway.

“So...” Rick says.

“Yeah?” Daryl rasps, practically buzzing with the effort not to reach out and run a hand over Rick’s collarbone.

“What do you need?” Rick’s voice is tight, strained. Daryl frowns.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks. “Sorry, I--”

“No,” Rick interrupts. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Sasha said she thinks there’s some sort of critter in the shower,” Daryl tells him. “Probably a raccoon. Maybe a possum. Thought we could go check it out.”

Rick laughs breathlessly. “We can check it out later.”

“Nah,” Daryl says. “Best to go now. ‘Fore anybody else gets up for a shower.”

“It can wait,” Rick insists. He shifts in the bed and seems even sweatier than when Daryl had walked in.

“You feelin’ okay?” Daryl asks. “You look kinda flushed.” He reaches forward to try and feel Rick’s forehead and Rick jerks away from him with a shudder.

“I’m fine.” Rick squirms a bit and grits his teeth, speaking through his tightened jaw. “Why don’t you check on the shower situation an’ just tell me what you find?”

Daryl eyes him, tension humming between them that Daryl doesn’t quite understand.

“Is that all you needed?” Rick prompts after a moment, his voice quivering just slightly even though he’s obviously putting forth a lot of effort to speak normally. A bead of sweat escapes from his hairline and makes its lazy way down his cheek.

Daryl watches the droplet move for a couple of seconds before blinking hard and tearing his eyes away. He scratches his head awkwardly. “Well, thought you might wanna come with me to check on it.”

Rick lets out a little sound that Daryl can’t quite identify. “Trust you to take care of it,” he mumbles.

“But--”

“Daryl, you’re just gonna have to deal with this on your own, okay?”

Daryl’s forehead wrinkles as he stares at Rick. “Don’t understand why you can’t co--”

“ _Daryl_ ,” Rick hisses. “Get the _fuck_ out of my cell!”

Daryl opens his mouth to let out a pissed/hurt retort when Rick legitimately whimpers and his hips buck upward like he can’t control the movement. He clamps his teeth closed on his bottom lip and gives Daryl the most pleading eyes Daryl has ever seen on anyone.

Daryl meets his crystalline gaze, feeling like maybe this is a turning point. The buzz of electricity in his veins feels almost literal, almost like the whole room is vibrating with whatever is between them, and surely _something_ \--

Rick jerks hard and squeezes his eyes shut. “Ah, _shit_ ,” he moans, slithering back down the bed into a horizontal position.

It’s then that Daryl notices three things. 1) Rick has a gargantuan erection, the kind that inspires poetry, 2) there’s an open bottle of what looks like lube on his nightstand, and 3) Daryl’s pretty sure that the buzzing he feels actually is, well, _literal_.

“Rick,” Daryl says slowly. “Do you have a vibrator in your ass?”

Rick whines and his hips hitch upward. “Get out,” he gasps.

“Do you want me to...” Daryl swallows. “Help?”

Daryl isn’t quite sure that the noise that comes out of Rick’s mouth is meant to be speech but it’s certainly not English. Rick’s eyes snap open and focus on Daryl’s for a moment before they start rolling back in his head ever so slowly again.

“I’m just gonna...” Daryl motions at the huge bulge in Rick’s sheets. He can’t think of the words and it doesn’t seem that necessary at the moment to verbalize them anyway. So he just reaches forward, giving Rick time to tell him no if he wants to ( _don’t say no don’t say no don’t say no_ ), and then pulls the sheet back to expose Rick’s cock. Rick moans again, his legs falling open, and the buzzing gets louder.

The base of the vibrator has balls on it. Large, green balls. They’re vibrating too, nestled against Rick’s ass, and Daryl’s confident that he’s never in his life been more jealous of a piece of lime-green glittery silicone than he is right now.

“Daryl,” Rick whimpers, lifting his hips and twisting the bedsheets in one fist while he reaches for Daryl’s wrist with the other. “Please,” he says, pulling Daryl’s hand toward himself.

“I got you,” Daryl murmurs, and he wraps his fingers around Rick’s throbbing dick and strokes it.

Rick jerks and a loud sobbing sound breaks free from his lips, but he holds himself back and Daryl squeezes the head of his cock and gives it another luxurious stroke. It’s beautifully long, with a graceful curve to it that would make a sculptor weep, and it’s hot and hard under Daryl’s hand like the Georgia concrete on a July afternoon. It is, without a doubt, the most perfect cock Daryl has ever seen in all his years of huddling in his bedroom, surreptitiously squinting at gay porn in the dim light of a shitty plastic Tracfone so that no one would notice that he was awake.

He’s certainly awake right now, with Rick shaking under his touch and the sounds of a lime-green vibrator humming between them like a new beginning. Daryl reaches down and presses the palm of his free hand against the silicone balls, pushing the shaft of the toy harder into Rick, and Rick arches up off the bed and bites his lip so hard that Daryl sees a tiny bubble of red on the man’s lips. He’s close, even a virgin like Daryl can tell that, and the thought of being the one to push Rick Grimes over the edge sends a shudder through the hunter’s body.

“Gonna use my mouth,” Daryl rasps, then leans over Rick’s body and licks his own lips, already imagining what the taste of Rick’s skin and Rick’s seed will be like.

Rick looks down at him and moans again, his breath hitching in the middle of the sound, and suddenly Daryl’s left nostril is overflowing with the other man’s come.

He pulls back, blinking and pawing at his own nose, and Rick stares at him, looking completely mortified. “Oh god,” Rick whimpers. “Daryl, I am _so_ sorry...”

“You came in my nose,” Daryl says, eyes wide as the rims of Mason jars, speaking the words like saying it out loud will make it less absurd.

“I’m so sorry--”

“‘S okay,” Daryl says. He blushes hard, a small dribble of jizz dripping from his nostril. He wipes it away and eyes Rick carefully.

Rick stares at Daryl, then starts to laugh. Daryl’s blush morphs into a small smile, then a big one, and then he’s laughing too, sitting on Rick’s bed with the other man’s come in his nose and the vibrator still buzzing happily between them, nestled deep in Rick’s body.

“I feel like you should know,” Rick says after a moment, reaching down and switching off the vibrations, “that I’m usually more in control of myself than that.” He smiles up at Daryl, the glaze of sex and satiation turning his beautiful blue eyes even more gemstone-brilliant than ever.

“‘M sure you are,” Daryl rumbles, then suddenly blinks down at Rick’s softening cock and the small puddles of white from the parts of the officer’s orgasm that had somehow missed going straight into Daryl’s nose. “I… gotta check on that raccoon…” he mutters, standing up so fast that he accidentally hits his head on the rail of the top bunk. He hisses under his breath but doesn’t let it stop him from taking two big steps toward the door.

“Daryl.”

It’s not a command or a plea or anything that begs for a reaction from Daryl, but he can’t _not_ react to Rick’s voice, so he stops in his tracks and slowly turns around to look back at Rick, stretched out naked on his bed looking like the very definition of original sin. Daryl’s throat goes dry as his eyes run over Rick’s body, mapping it out in his brain so that he’ll never forget it.

Rick gives him a smile that’s half affection, half contentment, and one hundred percent irresistible. “You can stay if you want,” he murmurs.

Daryl’s internal thought process shorts out and is replaced by white noise, a buzzing that’s way harder to interpret than a vibrator. He blinks at Rick and says, intelligently, “What?”

Rick shrugs, and Daryl wants to lick the man’s shoulders with an intensity that nearly floors him. “I’m just saying,” Rick answers in his old-money Southern drawl, “that I’m pretty well stretched out right now so if you wanted, you could... you know. Take advantage of that.”

Daryl just stares at him. The white noise in his brain increases in volume. If this was a movie or a porno or even real life that was happening to someone else, he’d understand what Rick just said. But surely he doesn’t want… surely he doesn’t want _Daryl_ to--

“Fuck me,” Rick says softly, spreading his legs farther like a calligraphed invitation to an event that Daryl’s not entirely sure he’s qualified to attend.

“Why?” Daryl murmurs, but he inches back toward the bed instead of creeping farther away from it.

“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you,” Rick breathes out, his eyes locked with Daryl’s, radiating things like need, like sincerity, like safety. It’s the most convincing argument Daryl’s ever heard, and he swallows hard and nods.

He slowly kicks off his boots. Rick breaks into a brilliant grin as Daryl shrugs off his vest and hangs it over the back of a metal folding chair in the corner of Rick’s cell. “Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he tells Rick, his hands shaking as he works on the buttons of his shirt.

“Don’t worry,” Rick says, wriggling his hips a bit to get Daryl’s attention back on them. “You don’t even need to prep me this time ‘cause I’m already ready. Just… slick yourself up and take me.”

Daryl’s fingers slip on the buttons again and he gives up on them, grunting and yanking the offending shirt off over his head. He moves his hands to his belt and has more success with that. “Ain’t never,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Rick drawls. “You want me?”

Daryl unfastens his jeans and shoves them down over his hips, catching his underwear too and pushing everything down to the floor. He steps out of the pile of clothing and toes off his socks, then climbs onto the bed and kneels between Rick’s legs. Rick is still waiting on an answer to his question, and Daryl grunts out an affirmation.

“Then take me,” Rick says. “Don’t have to be gentle. Don’t have to last long. I just wanna know what it’s like to have you fucking me.”

Daryl bites his bottom lip and takes in the sight below him, Rick’s skin still slick with sweat from before, the golden skin of the man’s arms contrasting with the smooth paleness of his abdomen and waist, the mark of a man who works hard for the things he has. Daryl trails his fingers over Rick’s stomach, catching the drops of come there and swirling the liquid around, painting abstract shapes on Rick’s skin with it.

“This is gonna mean somethin’,” Daryl rumbles quietly, keeping his eyes on his fingers and not on Rick’s face. “To me. Gonna mean a lot. You okay with that?”

Rick reaches for the bottle of lube and hands it to Daryl. “That’s how I want it,” he murmurs.

The hunter takes a deep breath and flicks open the lid of the bottle, pouring a bit into his hand. He reaches down and works the lube over himself, then takes another breath and hitches Rick’s leg up, draping the man’s calf over Daryl’s shoulder. He looks down and sees the vibrator, still deep inside of Rick.

“You do this a lot?” he asks, running his finger around the base of the toy where it disappears into Rick’s body.

Rick groans softly and tangles his hands in the bedsheets. “Not a _lot_ ,” he says. “Sometimes. Mostly just when I can’t get you out of my head.”

Daryl’s eyes snap up to Rick’s. “You think about me?”

“God, yes,” Rick breathes out. “All the time.”

Daryl stares down at Rick for a long time, chewing on his bottom lip like it’s a stick of gum, then finally drags his eyes down over Rick’s throat and farther, down his stomach and back to where the vibrator now seems to be very much in Daryl’s way. He takes hold of the base of it and pulls slowly, flicking his eyes back up to Rick’s face to watch the way the man’s features shift as the fullness of the toy leaves him. When the tip of it pops out and Rick gives a whimper of loss, Daryl tosses it to the side and quickly positions himself to take its place.

“Rick,” Daryl says, and when Rick looks up at him, eyes blazing with heat like the blue center of a campfire, Daryl takes a deep breath and surges forward.

Rick’s entire body arches, creating a curve more perfect than any mathematical equation Daryl’s ever seen, and Daryl bottoms out inside of him and then has to pause there, to allow himself to really process the full glory of being part of someone else, of being part of _Rick_ , of wanting and wanting and finally _having_.

And Rick wants him. He said so. So Daryl will take what Rick is offering.

He digs his fingertips into Rick’s hipbones and pulls out slowly, then surges in again. He’s always heard about how good sex feels, how hot and tight another person’s body will be as it squeezes his cock, but this is more than just _good_ , it’s fucking earthshattering. He fits inside Rick’s body like he was designed specifically to be there, the tightness around him smooth and luxurious like velvet, and holy fuck does this remind him of the first and only time Merle talked him into doing a line of cocaine--blood pumping fast, vision sparkling at the edges, the certainty that he has to stop himself before this becomes a habit he can’t give up. He’d managed it with the blow, stepped away with zero regrets and never tried it again, but Rick’s body is heaven in the midst of an almost literal hell and as he pulls out and slams back in a third time, Daryl is pretty sure he’s already crossed the line into addiction with this particular drug.

So he sets up a pace, the slow drag out and the fast, almost brutal thrust back in, leaving bruises where his fingers are glued to Rick’s hips. It’s mesmerizing and he loses himself in it, in sinking himself farther and farther into the tight heat until he’s not sure where he ends and Rick begins.

It’s not until Rick’s leg slips down from his shoulder to wrap loosely around his waist that Daryl snaps back into reality and realizes he’s being selfish, thrusting with abandon and without even the barest courtesy of a simultaneous handjob. He stops abruptly and reaches for Rick’s cock, finding it only half-hard under his fingers.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, then moves to pull out, to give Rick a sincere apology for forgetting himself so thoroughly. Rick tightens his legs around Daryl’s waist and frowns at him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Rick asks, his voice soft but authoritative.

Daryl looks away. “You ain’t even hard, Rick. You ain’t enjoyin’ this an’ I’m being a selfish bastard right now.”

Rick laughs breathlessly. “Holy shit, Daryl, if you think I’m not loving every second of this you’re crazy.”

Daryl furrows his brow, but lets himself slowly sink all the way back in anyway. “But you ain’t hard,” he points out again, giving Rick’s length a stroke as evidence.

Rick laughs again and reaches up, curling his hand around the back of Daryl’s neck and forcing eye contact. “I’m not hard because I came five minutes ago and I’m not sixteen anymore,” he says. “You keep going like this and I will be soon. And Daryl?”

Daryl eyes him and grunts in acknowledgement.

“Even if I don’t come this time, I guarantee you I’ll be thinking about this every time I jack off for the rest of my life,” Rick says, rocking his hips to make Daryl move within him again. Daryl moans softly, and Rick lets his hands slide over Daryl’s arms, scraping his nails lightly over the archer’s toned biceps. “You using me like this, pleasuring yourself with my body… _fuck_.”

Daryl narrows his eyes in thought, then plants one hand on the bed to hold himself up while he cups Rick’s jaw with the other. “Gonna kiss you. That okay?”

Rick’s cock nudges at Daryl’s stomach, already exponentially harder than it had been a few seconds ago, and Daryl’s hips jerk forward into Rick at the sensation. “Yeah,” Rick murmurs, licking his lips. “God, yeah. Kiss me.”

So Daryl leans down and rests his lips against Rick’s, holding completely still for a couple of seconds before gathering up his courage and starting to move his lips slowly, mapping out the curve of Rick’s mouth with the same deliberate attention as he uses for tracking, for slipping through the woods and finding the things he’s looking for.

And then they break apart, groaning each others’ names almost in unison, and Rick tightens his legs around Daryl’s waist and whispers “fuck” and Daryl is slamming forward into him before he can even gasp out the word “me” to finish the command.

After that it’s primal--deep and hard and full of moans that come out almost like growls and Rick’s teeth lodged in Daryl’s shoulder muscles hard enough to leave a bruise, Daryl pounding into him with abandon, chasing his orgasm like a fox that’s scented a rabbit. The hunter’s thrusts force a cry out of Rick’s throat every time, and Rick tightens his muscles around Daryl every time he tries to pull back out for another, and Daryl gets lost in the heat and the pressure and the taste of Rick’s lips on his tongue. He comes with a loud moan, biting his own bottom lip to cage the sound, and then slumps forward on Rick while he rides out the aftershocks. He’s vaguely aware of Rick wedging his own hand between them and then the heat pooling between their stomachs as the other man spills between them, whimpering softly and arching, then going still under Daryl with his arms and legs wrapped around Daryl’s body.

Things are quiet for a long time except for their pounding hearts, gradually slowing into sync with each other. Rick gently strokes Daryl’s sweat-damp hair and murmurs disjointed words into his ear, and a few of them sound like _love_ and some of them sound like _need_ but all of them sound like _home_.

After a while, Daryl rolls off of Rick and curls into his side. Rick kisses him again, gently, and smiles at him with a sated sparkle in his ice-blue eyes.

“So a raccoon in the showers, huh?” Rick asks softly, his voice husky and low.

“Screw the raccoon,” Daryl mutters, burying his head in Rick’s neck. “‘Bout time somebody else took care of things for a few minutes.”

Rick laughs and stretches luxuriously, then grabs a t-shirt from the floor and wipes them both clean. “Glad you barged in,” he says.

Daryl just grunts and pulls the sheet over both of them. Rick tosses the shirt off into the corner of the cell, then snuggles back down into a comfortable sleeping position with Daryl in his arms. Daryl eyes the ex-deputy for a long time, watching his eyelids droop farther and farther down, then clears his throat. “Rick?”

“Yeah?”

“Think I could try that thing next time?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm flying across the country today, so leave me comments to help me survive my three-hour layover. :)


End file.
